The Second Christmas
by meixel
Summary: Set in 1971, a hostage situation on Christmas Eve has Steve in jeopardy.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own SOSF, the characters or anything to do with the original series. All writing is done for fun and definitely not for profit.

Part 1 of this story is told from Mike's POV.

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The Second Christmas

Christmas Eve, 1971

It was the day before Christmas. In a few hours, the sun would set and many of the stores would call it for the season, closing their doors until after the holiday. Festive lights would soon adorn the town, and while San Francisco wasn't known for its white Christmases, it was cool and grey enough that you'd swear you'd soon see a snowflake or two fluttering around.

Steve and I were headed back to headquarters when we got the call. Back-up assistance was needed for a convenience store robbery. We were only blocks away. "Inspectors 8-1 responding," I answered. Steve made a sharp right down to King Avenue as I threw the red light on the rooftop. Within a minute, we were at the scene.

Already there were a couple of black and whites and an ambulance. I saw Officer Keating, a tenured patrolman whom I had the pleasure working with on numerous occasions.

"Dale, what do we have here?" I asked. Apparently, the clerk had escaped and relayed that the owner had been shot to death, leaving only the robbers, a woman and her two young children in the store.

"Have you made contact inside?" I directed my thoughts back to Keating.

"Not as yet," Dale replied. "I'm working with dispatch to place us through to the store phone."

A minute later, dispatch returned to the line and we could hear the phone ring through the radio.

"Yeah?" came the answer on the other end.

"This is Sergeant Dale Keating with the San Francisco Police Department."

"Isn't that special?" came the reply. We had the right number, no doubt.

"We don't want anyone else to get hurt. Why don't you turn yourself in? If you do, you'll avoid a whole lot of additional hassle."

"Why should we? The old guy was shot and he's already probably dead. We've got a broad and her two brats in here. We'll trade them only for our freedom. Sound fair?"

"We're listening." Keating wanted to keep him on the line as long as possible. In these situations, ever second counts.

"You tell your bigwigs that we've got a Mrs. Carter Richmond here with her two kids. If you want to see them alive, you'll get us on a private plane to Mexico. Got it?"

"Are Mrs. Richmond or her children injured?"

"No, they aren't. And if you want to keep it that way, I suggest you get us what we need and fast."

The sergeant disengaged the radio mic. "Someone needs to get a hold of Mr. Richmond.," Keating thought for a moment. "Reed, see if you can locate the husband."

"On it," said his partner.

Keating shot me a quick glance. "What do you think?"

"I think you play along with it until we get men in position to enter the store."

Steve joined in the conversation. "From the witness, I just heard there are two men, both heavily armed. They were in there to rob the store, but the owner pulled a gun. They shot him and the clerk managed to escape and call for help."

"The woman and her kids," I began.

"She's a frequent customer. A Mrs. Richmond. They just live a block away." Steve motioned to the south.

In no time, a man arrived on the scene clearly distressed. The clerk recognized him as Mr. Richmond, and with that, Keating called him over.

"Your wife and kids are in there. We're doing all we can to get them out safely," I tried to reassure the man.

"I can't believe this is happening. On Christmas Eve of all days. God, please don't let anything happen to them."

There was still hope, I thought. But I wanted to do everything I could to get those kids and the woman out of there. "Let me try something."

Keating handed me the mic. "Patch me through to the store again," I ordered dispatch. A minute later, the other thief answered the phone.

"This is Lieutenant Mike Stone of the San Francisco Police Department."

"Hey, wasn't the last guy only a sergeant? We've moved up in the world, Tommy!"

"Shut-up!" I could hear in the background.

"Say," I tried to put on my friendliest voice. "You've got a couple of young kids in there and their mom. Why don't you let them go? It's Christmas Eve, after all."

"And that would leave us with nothing."

"But they're kids. They don't deserve this. Let them go and we'll see to it that you'll be treated as fairly as possible. Cooperate and we'll do what we can to help you."

"Help us with what? Getting a life sentence for murder?" The word 'murder' must have frightened the children because we all suddenly heard crying in the background. "Lady, shut your damn kids up!"

"It doesn't have to be that way. The clerk said the owner had pulled a gun on you guys. Perhaps we can talk it down to 2nd degree. What do you think?" I wasn't at all certain that would be the way it would go, nor did I want them to get off that easily, but at that moment I'd do anything to get those kids out of there.

"No dice," was the response. I heard a loud click from the end of the line. I was disappointed with the result and needed to map out a new strategy.

"Trade." I heard a quiet voice beside me.

At that moment, I had no idea what was said or who had said it. I looked to my right and saw Steve. "What?"

"Trade," he repeated.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll go in there in exchange for the family." Steve answered as earnestly as possible.

"No way," was my firm and final answer. Mr. Richmond, however, had other thoughts.

"If you won't let him go in there, Lieutenant, then let me. It's my family."

"Definitely not." While I could arrange a deal for another officer to go in, I surely could not put another civilian at risk.

"He can't do that, sir," Steve responded for me. "Mike, think about it. It gives the family a chance and it also gives those guys a bargaining chip, or at least they can think that."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.

"It's basic. You give them a chance to show they are willing to work with us, then the true negotiations can begin"

He was right. In hostage situations, when someone is injured, it speaks volumes when the criminals are willing to do the right thing and let the wounded go. It was a similar situation here. But I couldn't let Steve be the one to make the sacrifice.

"I'll do it," I said gruffly.

"That would make no sense at all."

"And why is that?"

"Because you are the negotiator. You are the man. Once you go in, who is going to have the clout for them to want to talk to?"

He was correct, but definitely not right. "Over my dead body," I responded somewhat dramatically.

"There's nothing that any of us want more than to have those kids safe. Right?"

"But why you? You've got…" I began to say that he had his life in front of him, but he quickly cut me off.

"I've got no one. It's Christmas and people should be with their families. All the other cops here are married and some even have kids."

"Well, my daughter is grown…"

"And she would love to have a grandfather to introduce her kids to. Mike, it will be okay."

"How do you know?"

"I trust you to get me out of it. Now make the call."

Another two minutes later, the one who wasn't Tommy picked up the line. "Yeah."

"It's Stone again. Look, it's Christmas Eve. You want us to deal with you, you need to do something for us in good faith."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"A trade. One of my men for the woman and her kids." I swallowed hard on that one.

"Hold on." I could hear him cup the handset and talk to "Tommy". I couldn't make out a word.

Not long after, he was back on the line. "You know, we're not heartless bastards, Stone. Send one of your men in and we'll release the kids."

I didn't think they'd release the entire family, but thought it was worth the effort to try again. "Why not the mother, too? She needs to be with her kids."

"Push it, Stone and you get nothing."

"Okay, okay. I'll send my man in and you release the kids. Deal."

"Not quite yet. Your man needs to be stripped down. No gun, no belt, no tie and no shoes. I don't want no bulky coat either. Just shirt and pants, nothing more."

I was uncomfortable, but not surprised, with the idea that they would give Steve no ability to protect himself.

"Oh, and one more thing. He comes over with his hands behind his back and in cuffs. No cute tricks. Understand, Stone?"

I really hated that one; almost to the point where I called the whole deal off. But then I thought of the kids. "Understood. As soon as he gets to the front door, I want you to let the kids out. If there's any funny business, so help me, you'll go down."

For that, I was rewarded with another loud click.

I nodded at Steve. "No gun, belt, tie or shoes."

"Yeah, I heard. At least I can wear socks. It's a little cool out, you know," Steve tried to joke.

"Are you sure?" I asked one more time, but I knew the answer as I watched him take off his tie and belt.

"I just want to know one thing," he answered with a lopsided grin.

"What's that?"

"Are you going to slap the cuffs on me?"

I shook my head. "Dale, get over here."

I watched Steve hand Dale his own cuffs. "Good luck, man." Dale whispered in Steve's ear as he gently cuffed Steve's wrists behind his back.

Steve gave him a quick nod. "Let's get those kids back to their dad and then maybe we can get the mother and me out of there before Santa comes around."

Steve turned around and began his sock-footed journey to the convenience store with hands cuffed behind his back. Just then a chilly burst of air blew down the street. I could see two children on the other side of the glass door and prayed that they would be in their father's arms in a matter of seconds.

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tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n** the first part of this story was told from Mike's POV. Now, as Steve enteres the store, the story switches to his POV.

Merry Christmas to all! I appreciate all the kind words and support. For those who've been following the SOSF/Ironside crossover, that story took an unintended holiday break. I've got the next part written and will post hopefully before New Years.

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As I walked across the street to the convenience store, the little loose pebbles of asphalt hurt my feet. If the guys knew what a tenderfoot I am, there'd be no end to the razzing. Haseejian alone would be all over it. Anyone watching my stride would see a slow deliberate pace. It's not done for effect; the reality was that I couldn't wait to get over to the store. I wanted to see those kids bolt to freedom first, and then I just wanted to get off this lousy street and into the tile-floored store.

The robber said nothing to me as he opened the door. Two kids, a young girl, maybe seven years old, and an even younger boy, ran out presumably to their father's waiting arms. Thank goodness for that. I didn't get to see the reunion as I was immediately thrown against the store check-out counter and aggressively searched. I gathered that at least one of the two men had done time, since he knew exactly what he was doing.

He found nothing, which I knew would be the case. My purpose here was not to overpower or trick the robbers. My primary job was already complete. The children were safe. Now my role was to look out after their mother and make sure she enjoys a Christmas reunion with her kids. After the unnecessary roughness displayed during the search, I take my place on the floor next to the woman.

A call comes through on the store line. I'm sure it's Mike.

"Yeah, your little piglet is sitting next to the woman. If he's smart, he'll keep his yap shut," the guy leers at me. For the record, while I hate the term 'pig' for a cop, I hate 'piglet' even more. "Now that the kids are out of the picture, Stone, it's time for us to talk."

I presume that Mike tells them to go ahead with their demands.

"We want a car to take us to the private airport. Call one of your mayor's buddies and have them arrange for a corporate jet to take us and one of the hostages to Mexico. In the plane, we want a stash of cash. Ten grand will do,"

I imagine Mike stalls for time. The response I hear is, "You have an hour." He slams the phone down.

Now, it's the waiting game. I look at the clock and see that it's just after 4pm. Another hour will get us to 5pm, and it will be dark. I check the woman to my left. She's got tears in her eyes. I can't imagine how frightened she must be. From where I sit, there's a body behind the counter. All I can see are his ankles and shoes with toes pointed at a random angle. I figure it's the owner who'd been shot.

"Is there anything we can do for the man over there?" I look deliberately at the robber who had been on the phone.

"Shut up. Talk again and you'll be in his condition. Dead." He waved his gun for effect.

Okay. But I continue to stare at the shoes. There's no movement at all.

"His face," the woman whispers. "He was shot in the face and then in the chest. I don't think he could have survived."

I wonder which one is 'Tommy': The one who just gave the woman a quick, disapproving look when she spoke to me or the one standing near the phone? Both men were in their thirties and appeared like they could put up a decent fight. The one closest to us had dark hair, a short beard and an army jacket. The jacket read 'Warren' on the name tag. Maybe it's his name, or maybe it's surplus that he picked up somewhere cheap.

We sat for several minutes. The guy next to the phone finally spoke up. "Hey, it's a long trip to Mexico, man. They've got some sandwiches over there," he nodded to the back where there was apparently a small deli. "Go get us some." Warren went over to the refrigerator case and looked around.

Actually, eating wasn't a bad idea. This could prove to be a very long night. They must have read my mind because the next thing I know, two sandwiches were dropped in the lap of Mrs. Richmond. "One of you is coming with us. I don't know who yet. We haven't decided. Might as well eat something."

With hands cuffed behind me, I was in no position to eat. I looked over to her, "Ladies first, go ahead." The last thing Mrs. Richmond wanted was food. It probably tasted worse than it looked. She took a couple of bites as if it was the most bitter thing on earth and tried choking it down.

"It will be all right," I whisper. "The kids are safe, and that's a good sign. They want to end this without anyone else getting hurt and so do we."

Mrs. Richmond nodded her head as she picked up the other sandwich and placed it up to my mouth. I take a quick look at it. Bologna with a limp piece of lettuce on white bread. Next to Mike's anchovies, I can't think of a food I detest more. But as I may need my energy for later, I take a bite. Like Mrs. Richmond, I choke the sandwich down.

Mrs. Richmond was barely thirty. She had wavy, dark wavy hair and wore a green patchwork coat over her dress. My first impression was that she was scared stiff, but had calmed some as she realized her children were safe. "What's your name?" I whispered as I sought to introduce myself.

"Louise Richmond," she answered with a half smile.

"Well, Louise, I'm Steve. Looks like you and I are going to be here a while."

The hour was up. One thing that I realized was that while Mike could call in, they had no real way to call him unless they knew to call the dispatch unit and have them patch a connection through. I could almost bet Mike wouldn't initiate a call at this point. He wanted to make them sweat a little.

"It's after five," the man I know think of as Warren announced. "What do we do now, Tommy?"

"Shut up!" Tommy answered. Apparently he didn't like hearing his name out loud like this. Tommy was clearly the brains of the outfit.

He gave it a few minutes and then walked over to me. He yanked me up and led me over to the door. The next thing I felt was Tommy's pistol resting at my temple. Tommy opened the door and wedged us both in the open doorframe.

"Where's the car, Stone?" Tommy shouted. At the mention of Mike's name, he jabs the pistol harder into my head.

"Take it easy," Mike yelled. "It's on its way."

"You're going to drive," Tommy instructed to me. "We'll leave the broad behind. She looks like she's going to fall apart, although I have to admit, the idea that we could have some fun with her on the way down to Mexico is still appealing."

I remain silent, but was sickened by the thought.

"I want the keys to his cuffs. Have one of your boys in blue toss it over to me." Tommy yelled to Mike. The next thing I see is Officer Reed coming out from behind the barricade of police cars with a silver set of keys in his hand. He walks closer to the front door. "That's far enough, Toss 'em," Tommy says. Reed complies and Tommy catches the set. He chuckled as he stuffed the keys in his pocket. "You never know, kid. We might have some fun with you instead. You may even grow to like us."

I know he's just trying to get a rise out of me, so I remain quiet. The next thing I know I'm being yanked back over and thrown again to the side of Mrs. Richmond.

I imagine what Mike must be thinking right now. He has to anticipate every move these characters will make. There's no chance that an airplane is waiting to take us to Mexico. There is a chance that they will allow us to leave the premises, however, especially if that means Mrs. Richmond will go free. If I'm the one they choose to drive, there will be a better chance for Mike to make a quick move and nail these guys. If it's Mrs. Richmond, then all bets are off.

The phone rings again. "Yeah," Tommy responds. "What do you mean 8pm? There has to be a way to get out of here sooner than that?"

Tommy listens in silence. Mike talks about how they have a plane that's large enough to get us down to Mexico and that it's one its way in from LA. It will need time to land and refuel. By the time that happens, it will be 8pm, which is two and half hours away.

Obviously, Mike is trying to wear them down. His plan would be to catch them by surprise. At some point, he'll either send in SWAT or shoot some tear gas. Tommy slams the phone down and walks over to me. I think he realizes at that point, there's really no way out of this mess and he's angry.

"I don't know what the hell your cop buddy thinks he's doing, but you're going to pay." While his anger is directed at me, Louise flinches and cries out.

Tommy backhands me hard. I feel the sting in my cheek and can taste a trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. He reaches down an grabs me by the upper arm, then slams me against some shelves. After three solid punches to my gut, I want to wretch and nearly puke the bologna sandwich. I realize then, it tastes worse coming back up than it did going down. How is that possible? One final right hook across the jaw and I'm back down on my side.

"What are you doing?" Warren asks. "That cop is our driver." He doesn't understand that they won't be permitted to leave San Francisco.

Tommy takes a step back and allows for the possibility that we will at least get in the car and begin driving somewhere. He looks like he's weighing his alternatives. If it were me, I'd want to be driven to the most crowded area I could think of so I could get lost and go underground.

Time passes very slowly. It's now nearly 7:30. I've been sitting uncomfortably on the floor next to Louise for well over three hours and I began to wonder what was next. We hear noise in the back as does Tommy and Warren. Mercifully, they leave Louise sitting, but Tommy once again grabs me and I feel the gun to my head. We walk toward the back behind the store followed by Warren. I've become Tommy's human shield.

I feel the air pressure change in the store and realize that Mike has ordered the guys in through the front. The noise in the back was subterfuge, plain and simple. Tommy yanks me back around and we return to the storefront to find Louise gone. Thank God! From behind the counter, a SWAT officer jumps up and yells, "Freeze!"

This is, without a doubt, my cue to hit the floor and lie as flat as possible. I throw myself down hard. Tommy knows that the end has come and for a quick second, I feel like he's going to go down in a blaze of glory and take me with him. I hear his gun cock, but less than a second later, there's a hail of gunfire. While I can't see a thing, I can hear bullets all around me and pray that none ricochet downward. In the end, Tommy never stood a chance.

In the meantime, Warren has dropped his weapon and begins singing like a Christmas choir. "It was all Tommy. He made me do it." He is swarmed by other officers and they lead him away.

But it's over. I'm still flat on my stomach with hands cuffed behind my back on a cold tile floor, but the sense of relief is overwhelming. I raise to my knees and I hear, "Steve!". A helpful, if over exuberant, pair of hands lead me to stand.

"Are you okay, Buddy boy?" Mike gives my shoulder a quick squeeze.

"I'm fine." I was a bundle of nerves, but I didn't want it to show. After all, I'm with my partner and at this point a couple dozen other macho cops. Anything less than measured bravado would be met with a substantial degree of derision back at the station.

Mike knows the game and privately offers to take me to the hospital to be looked over. "No, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital. All I need is for someone to take off these damn cuffs. Who has the keys?"

"That guy," Mike said as he looked over to the bloody pulp that was Tommy. "But my keys will work, too." Mike turned me around to unlock the cuffs. Seconds later, my arms were free. They were a screaming mess as I tried to get circulation back.

Thank God, I say under my breath as we walk out the front of the store. The cool air feels tremendous. "Are the Richmonds okay?"

"Yes, last I saw Dale was taking Mrs. Richmond's statement. She'll be free to go soon. And the kids were fine. They wouldn't move away from their dad. Can't say as I blame them."

The outcome couldn't have been better, at least for the Richmonds. I glance over and see another woman in distress. "That's the owner's wife," Mike whispered. I hadn't forgotten the still, angled shoes from behind the counter. In fact, that sight will haunt me for a while.

Mike nudges me on the arm and looks ahead. In front of us are Captain Olsen, Haseejian, Lessing and Healey. They had already gone home for the holiday, but apparently came back in when the hostage situation occurred. I appreciated the smiles on their faces.

"Well, my boy. Good work!" the Captain began in his normal perturbed voice.

"Yeah, we were afraid Mike would have to break in a new partner," Norm joined in. "And just as we had become used to you."

"Not a chance. Besides, who else would be around to drink that potion you call 'coffee'?" I tease. After a few more slaps on the back, some of which were actually a little painful, Mike and I make our way over to the LTD.

"I'll drive," he said. "And we're going to the hospital. You don't look too good and Mrs. Richmond told us you took a pretty good beating in there."

I simply nod. Everything ached and my jaw was throbbing. I dared not say that my feet were killing me, but they were. "Do you have my shoes?"

"In the car, Buddy boy."

We get in and Mike looks over. "I'm glad it worked out. But I will tell you, I never want to go through that again. When he had you at the door with the gun jammed to your head, that was it for me. Next time, I go in myself."

"I'm glad it worked out, too. I never had any doubt that it wouldn't."

"Faith is a good thing to have at Christmas, Buddy boy," Mike hesitated as he switched the subject. "Say, remember when you said that you don't have anyone? It was when we were debating on who should go in."

I remember, I thought silently.

Mike continued. "I know you meant not having a wife and kids, but you do know that we all consider you a part of our family. Those guys back there would give their right arm for you."

I hadn't thought about that, but it was true. And I had grown to feel the same way about them in the last eighteen months. Especially Mike. I'd put my life down for him in a heartbeat. For such a realization, I responded, "Yeah, I know."

"Well, let's go get you checked out and then I'll take you home."

"Sounds good. I have a feeling I'll sleep well tonight."

"And then you are still coming over tomorrow for dinner and to watch the football game. Unless you have other plans?" Mike added.

"No. No other plans." I smiled. Fatigue was catching up with me as I leaned back in the passenger seat.

"Good, Jeannie's making a ham and all the fixins. You'll love it." Mike continued to elaborate on the meal, but my thoughts turned elsewhere.

I say a quick prayer of thanks. Not only for the realization that there are those around me who consider me family, but for the Richmonds and their kids. Not everyone can be with their loved ones at Christmas, but for them, I imagine they won't be apart for one second. They'll be together, as parents and children should be.

We speed off for the hospital when another call comes through the radio. This time, it's disorderly conduct in a parking lot outside of a bar. "No more," I say with my eyes closed.

"No more, Buddy boy. At least for today," he says with a chuckle. "Merry Christmas."


End file.
